


First and Second Chances

by chissprincess



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Flashback, Flashbacks, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chissprincess/pseuds/chissprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thranduil accidentally discovers his son’s secret romance, it reminds him of his past and gives him a chance to try again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First and Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all characters, places, events, languages, etc. belong to Tolkien. I am merely borrowing them to play for a short time.
> 
> Notes: The idea for this just randomly popped into my head, and just had to be written! I hope you enjoy it.

    The letter had been included in the pile of correspondence Galion set on his desk, and Thranduil hadn’t even paid attention to whose name was _actually_ written on the outside of the sealed note before breaking the seal (though he did note that the use of green wax was odd…those he corresponded with usually used red) and beginning to read the letter.

 

_My beautiful treasure,_

_I dreamt of you again last night, and when I awoke this morning I was sorely disappointed to realize that the sweet kisses and tender caresses we exchanged had only occurred in a dream. I wonder, do you ever find yourself in a similar position? Ah, my love, I have no hope of seeing you again soon, for my duties here keep me so busy and I know yours in Mirkwood keep you similarly occupied, but I long for the day when my dreams of us being together are once again a reality. We have so much to talk about, and it pains me to have to write it all. I long to hear your voice again…_

 

There was _no way_ this letter was meant for him. It just couldn’t be. Nobody had written to him like this in centuries. No, this wasn’t a letter meant for his eyes. He glanced down at the signature and chuckled a little when he noted that the letter-writer was Haldir, one of Lothlorien’s young marchwardens. A fine young man, really. Thranduil felt that whoever he had written to must be very lucky indeed. The greeting at the beginning of the letter told him nothing about who the proper recipient was (though he had to admit that “my beautiful treasure” struck him as quite sweet) so he turned the paper over – and froze. It was as though a block of ice from the North had settled into his stomach, and he could have sworn that his heart actually stopped for a moment.

     The intended recipient of the letter, and the target of Haldir’s affections, was _Legolas_.

     Thranduil let out a sad groan and dropped the letter on his desk, eyeing it nervously while trying not to actually read any more of it. He had invaded his son’s privacy quite enough for one day. But the more he thought about the situation, the more he realized that finding this letter, while terribly awkward, was a good thing. After all, this…this could not be allowed to continue. From the sounds of what he had already read, the relationship between Legolas and Haldir had already progressed quite far. And the longer it went on, the more painful it would be when the inevitable end came. Thranduil would normally be loath to interfere in his son’s private life. After all, Legolas was a fully-grown Elf and more than capable of taking care of himself. But he was also the prince of Mirkwood and the last of the family line. He had responsibilities. Like…staying in Mirkwood, and producing an heir. What if Haldir expected Legolas to take up residence in Lothlorien? And there could be no heirs since they were both ellyn…

     The Elvenking rose from his chair and paced the room, pausing only to pour himself a glass of wine from the perpetually-filled bottle he always kept, with a pair of elegant wine glasses, on a table in his private chambers. He swirled the wine in the glass a few times before taking a sip. He let the fragrant red liquid pool on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it, then went back to considering his options. But really, there was only one option.

     Legolas would have to break things off with Haldir, and he would have to do it sooner rather than later.

     Thanduil finished his glass of wine in one long gulp, then called for his butler. Galion stepped into the room and bowed. “Send for Legolas,” the king said. “I must speak with him.” Galion just nodded and disappeared to do as ordered. Thranduil studied the letter a bit more, then sighed and poured himself a second glass of wine while he waited. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, he heard soft footsteps in the hallway, and he turned just as Legolas appeared.

     “You wanted to see me?” the younger elf asked, a bright smile on his lips and his blue eyes sparkling in the light of Thranduil’s study.

     “You seem quite cheerful today,” Thranduil said. He smiled a little as he watched his son. Legolas was often quite serious these days, but now that Thranduil thought about it, he had seemed much happier lately. The king had assumed it had to do with the coming spring, but now he wondered if it had more to do with Haldir than the impending change in season.

     Legolas just shrugged a little. “It’s a lovely day. Clear skies, no spiders or orcs have been seen all week…Should I not be cheerful?”

      _Not once I’m done with you, I’m afraid,_ Thranduil thought. The smile faded from his own face and he schooled his features into the more serious and stern look of a father about to give his child bad news. Legolas’s own smile faded in response, and his eyes took on a wary look. But when Thranduil held out the letter, the wariness turned immediately to something more like fear.

    “Ada…”

    “You should know that I did not intend to read your private correspondence, my son,” Thranduil said as gently as he could. “But I did happen to find this letter to you from Haldir, and I am afraid we must talk.” He set the letter back on his desk and stared at it where it lay for a moment. “Legolas, this relationship you have with Haldir…” He raised his head to look at his son once more, and found he could no longer finish his sentence, for the look of fear and sorrow on Legolas’s normally fair face was utterly heartbreaking. Clearly, the young prince had some idea of what was coming. Thranduil felt his resolve to be firm and get this over with quickly crumbling. This was going to hurt Legolas horribly, and he knew it. But it had to be done.

     There was no other way.

     Right?

     “A-ada, I…” Legolas began. “I…”

     The words and the way he spoke them sounded so familiar to Thranduil. Where had he heard such a thing before? And without warning, Thranduil suddenly felt himself plunged into a flashback, a memory of a moment when his own life had mirrored his son’s.

 

~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~

 

     “Did you really think you could keep this from me, Thranduil?” Oropher demanded, waving the letter in his son’s face. “Well? Answer me!”

    “A-ada, I…no, of course not, we were going to tell you, we just wanted to be certain first…”

     “Certain of what, precisely?” Oropher threw the letter down on his desk and made a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh as he prowled around the room, circling his son as he did. Thranduil was tall, certainly, but Oropher was even taller, and he was able to look down at Thranduil as he spoke. “You are the Prince of the Greenwood, Thranduil. You have duties to your people, responsibilities to fulfill. I will _not_ always be here and someday you will be _King_ , not a mere Prince, and you _must_ fulfill all of your duties.” He stopped directly in front of Thranduil, his deep blue eyes boring into the younger elf’s lighter ones. “One of those duties is producing an heir who will take over for _you_ someday. And how will you do that with Elrond as your spouse? It is not possible!”

      “S-surely there is another way!”

     “And what way is that? Do you intend to steal a child from somewhere? To break your marriage bond with him to lie with an elleth and beget an heir for yourself? And this is to say nothing of how the people will react! Do you think they will accept their King having a male consort?”

     Thranduil struggled to hold back the tears his father’s rant threatened to produce. He didn’t care about having an heir – as far as he was concerned, he would most likely never be King of the Greenwood, since Oropher was a strong elf and a much-loved ruler. But if by some horrible streak of fate he _did_ become King, well, he planned to simply remain that way until he faded. By then, his people would most likely all be faded, dead, or in the Undying Lands anyway. And he was _sure_ his people would not only accept Elrond, but love him. The brown-haired elf was wise and kind, a skilled healer, and quite handsome. He would be a wonderful consort and a great help in doing what was best for the Greenwood. Yes, it might take them some time to get used to the unorthodox arrangement, but Thranduil was certain they would do so in time.

     “The Greenwood would be lucky to have Elrond by my side,” he said, voice quavering despite his attempt at sounding confident. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, but that only made the shaking in his hands more obvious. “He is a—“

     “ _Thranduil_!” Oropher exclaimed in frustration. “This is not about whether or not Elrond is a fine elf or even a fine match for you! But this simply cannot be.” He waved a hand to forestall further protest from his son. “I will not give you my blessing in this. I cannot. Now, I have arranged a meeting for you with a fine young elleth who I think will be a very suitable match for you. And tomorrow, when Elrond arrives here with his family, you will tell him that things are over between you.” He paused and waited for Thranduil’s answer, but when he received none he stepped forward and took Thranduil’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting the shorter elf’s head back and forcing him to look his father in the eye. “Do I have your understanding?”

     “Yes, Ada,” Thranduil replied softly.

     “And…?”

     “And…and I will tell him.”

     Oropher held his son’s gaze for a few moments longer, then let go of his chin and gave his cheek a quick pat. “Good child. You will meet your future wife in the morning. I expect you to be at your best.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     Thranduil did meet his future wife the next morning. She was quite pretty, with striking grey eyes and hair of such a shade of gold it rivaled even his own silvery-gold locks in beauty. She had a pleasant enough personality, he supposed – friendly and outgoing, but not to an unseemly degree, and she seemed intelligent (though based on his first impression he would never call her wise). She was said to be a skilled musician with a special affinity for the flute. When he took her on a tour of the halls on his father’s orders, they came across a group of elflings playing, and when one of them fell and began to cry she immediately went to the child’s aid. Thranduil supposed she would be a good mother to any children they might have.

      But she wasn’t his beloved. She wasn’t Elrond. And she never would be.

      By the time it was midday, their respective parents had already arranged the marriage. They were to be wed as the summer began, only two short months away. It was expected to be a joyous occasion in the Greenwood, and by the time Thranduil left his father’s study after learning of his engagement, much of the royal household already seemed to know about the arrangement. Thranduil knew that everyone else would know by the end of the day, since word of such things travelled fast, and that he would be expected to put on a happy face.

     Even if he felt anything but happy.

     Even if his heart was breaking into a million pieces.

     He found Elrond waiting for him at the top of one of the many staircases in their halls. The brown-haired elf wore a knowing look, and a Thranduil approached his eyes filled with sadness.

     “I have heard rumors of your engagement,” he whispered as Thranduil stopped in front of him. “Galion was speaking to another servant about it as they passed by me.”

     The Prince of the Greenwood simply nodded, then grabbed Elrond’s arm and pulled him off to a more quiet and private spot, hidden away behind moss-covered rocks that sat on the edge of one of the small rivers running through the halls. The two settled onto the soft moss covering the ground behind the rocks and clung tightly to each other. For the first time since his father’s pronouncement on the matter, Thranduil allowed himself to cry, burying his face against his beloved’s shoulder as he did. Elrond, for his part, simply held him and rubbed his back, his own tears falling into Thranduil’s hair.

     “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Thranduil finally managed, gasping for breath as he spoke. “Ada won’t let us…he won’t let me…”

     “It is the same for us both,” Elrond said. He ran his hand through Thranduil’s hair and sighed. “Though my parents have not found me a wife yet.”

      Thranduil finally raised his head. “Then maybe you have hope,” he whispered. “Maybe you can marry the one you choose.”

     “But that would be you,” Elrond replied. “And we know that will never happen. Not so long as your father has a say in the matter.”

      The young Prince had to agree, and with a great sob he went back to crying against Elrond’s shoulder. The two of them hid there for as long as they could, crying and talking and exchanging the last kisses they knew they would ever share, and then Thranduil knew he had no choice but to prepare for dinner. As Oropher’s son and a newly-betrothed young man, he had to put on a good show for everyone. He gave Elrond one last long, deep kiss, the kind that seemed to extend beyond their bodies and into their very souls, before climbing over the rocks and disappearing deeper into the halls.

     Elrond left the Greenwood early the following day, and after that Thranduil rarely saw him. They never exchanged correspondence except as required in their duties as royals and nobles. In fact, the only time they came even close to anything more than an exchange of simple courtesies was they day Thranduil received a letter from Elrond following the death of Oropher at the Battle of Dagorlad. But he couldn’t bring himself to answer the letter, and after that even Elrond’s official notes were particularly formal and perfunctory. Nothing like the long letters full of warmth and poetry he used to send.

     As for his marriage…well, it produced Legolas, for which Thranduil would be eternally grateful. His son brought him joy where nothing and nobody else did. But the marriage itself was little more than an act, and both Thranduil and his wife knew it. Prior to Legolas’s conception, they slept together almost nightly in an attempt to speed along the birth of an heir. Once that happened, though, they lost all desire for intimacy. At first they continued to share a bed, then switched to separate beds in the same room, and then to separate rooms completely. In the end, his wife chose to go to the Undying Lands, leaving Thranduil to raise Legolas alone. He didn’t begrudge her the decision, though. They were both trapped in a loveless marriage and the rest of her family had long since departed. Though he wished she had chosen to stay and be the mother he though Legolas deserved, he didn’t try to stop her when she left, and he wished her well on her journey.

     The years dragged into decades and then centuries and then millennia, and though Thranduil’s thoughts sometimes turned to Elrond, there was nothing he could do. Nothing he _would_ do. Elrond was married (happily, it seemed) and the father of three children, not to mention being the lord of Imladris and one whose wisdom and knowledge were often sought after. Thranduil occasionally tried to ease the ache in his heart by taking a lover to his bed, but he never allowed the relationships to grow serious and they never really met his true needs. So for the most part he simply threw himself into the two most important tasks in his life: being a good father to Legolas and a good King to his people. And if his dreams were sometimes filled with thoughts of what could have been…well, he just had to wake up and remind himself that those things _hadn’t_ been and _wouldn’t_ be…

 

~*~*~*~   ~*~*~*~

 

     “Ada? Are you alright?”

     His son’s confused voice dragged him back to the present. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them again, he focused first on Legolas and then on the letter on his desk. Slowly, as though afraid it would somehow harm him, he picked the letter up again and stared at it, ignoring the sharp intake of breath that came from Legolas as he did. He read the first bit of it again, the bit he had already read. And suddenly, it struck him – things could be different for his son.

     Thranduil had once defiantly believed that he would need no heir, because he would simply stay in his realm, guarding and caring for his people until he had faded and they were gone. But now, he realized that Legolas’s presence didn’t have to change that plan. He could still stay here that long, if he wanted. If he was careful, and made sure to stay out of harm’s way, he could be the Elvenking for many more centuries. Long enough for his people – including Legolas and Haldir -- to leave Middle Earth.

      Long enough for Legolas to have what Thranduil had lost.

     “Do you love him?” he asked.

     Legolas looked completely bewildered. “I…I’m sorry?”

     Thranduil held the letter out to his son. “Haldir. Do you love him? From what I read, it certainly seems that he loves you.”

      Legolas’s cheeks turned scarlet and he refused to meet Thranduil’s gaze for a moment. But then, apparently deciding that things would go better for him if he could meet his father’s eyes, he looked up and nodded. “I do. And I believe that he truly loves me as well.”

     The Elvenking nodded and tilted his head a little. “You are aware that, when your relationship with him becomes public – and it will, given who you are – that things may not be easy for the two of you.”

      “Of course,” Legolas replied. “But we are both strong, Ada.”

      Thranduil smiled a little. “I know. I have no doubt about that. But I want you to be prepared. You are also aware the children will most likely be out of the question? It is…simply not possible for two ellyn together to conceive a child, and you are well aware that orphaned and abandoned elflings are so rare that you cannot count on finding one to take in, yes?”

     “I-I know that,” Legolas replied, nervousness once again reflected in his eyes. “But Haldir knows I can’t leave Mirkwood, and he knows I will have to stay here until…” he took a deep breath. “Until my last subject is gone and my duties are fulfilled. He knows that being with me means coming here eventually, and staying here.”

     The king stared at his son, one hand moving to rest over his heart for a moment. Had Legolas really just declared that he would stay here in Mirkwood forever? Just as Thanduil himself had always planned? A part of him couldn’t believe it. Legolas had long been more adventurous, longing to see the outside world. It was one of the reasons he had been able to meet Haldir to begin with, and was clearly the reason their romance had had the chance to blossom. For him to agree to stay in Mirkwood forever was an incredible sacrifice. And here he was, willing to make it if it meant he could be with the one he loved. And for Haldir, who was used to the brightness and greenness of Lothorien, staying the halls of Mirkwood would be a great sacrifice as well.

      Thranduil sniffled and reached out to Legolas, closing the space between them in a few long strides and pulling his son into a tight embrace. Legolas tensed at first. Thranduil was rarely so demonstrative with his love and so Legolas wasn’t entirely sure how to react. But he soon relaxed and returned his father’s hug, resting his head on Thranduil’s shoulder and clutching handfuls of the other elf’s robe.

      “You don’t have to stay here,” Thranduil whispered into his hair. “That is _my_ duty, not yours, my son.” He pulled back just far enough to see Legolas’s face and laughed a little at the completely confused look the younger elf gave him. “If Haldir holds your heart, then you have my blessing. Just…promise that you won’t rush things. You are both young yet. I want you to make sure this is what you truly want before you make any commitments or promises.”

      Legolas gasped, eyes going wide and mouth opening in a brilliant smile. “You mean…”

     “Go write to Haldir and tell him I approve, and also that I wish for him to come to Mirkwood as soon as possible,” Thranduil said. “He can stay for a time, and then you should go to Lorien with him and get to know the place better.”

     “ _Thank you!_ ” Legolas exclaimed, hugging his father again before pulling back and dashing off. “I’ll write to him now!”

     “Legolas! Don’t forget your letter!” Thranduil called after him, waving Haldir’s note. Legolas returned just long enough to retrieve the letter and give Thranduil one last hug before running off once more. Thranduil laughed and shook his head as he watched his son go.

     _Ah, well. It’s about time someone in this family had a relationship go right._

     Thranduil sighed and settle into the chair behind his desk once more. He still had a pile of correspondence to review, but none of it appealed to him. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment, then grinned a little and got up once more. He went to the bookshelves that lined one wall and hunted for a box he kept there, finally finding it half-hidden behind a stack of scrolls and smaller trinkets. He pushed those items aside and pulled the box down, blowing a layer of dust off of the top as he carried it back to his desk. Once there, he sat down once more and carefully opened the box, then reached inside and gently removed the dozens of pieces of parchment it contained and began to read them. He had nearly forgotten the way Elrond wrote love letters in their younger days, and now, as he re-read notes he had tried so hard to put from his mind, he once again felt the stirring of old feelings in his heart. He wondered if, somewhere in Rivendell, Elrond also kept a box of old love letters, and if he ever read them, and if reading them fanned the flames of old love long buried in his heart too.

      Well, there was one way to find out. Thanduil set the letters back in their box and moved the box to the edge of his desk, then sought out his finest parchment and best ink to write a very important letter.

 

_My dear Elrond,_

_I hope you can forgive the centuries of rudeness to which I have so cruelly subjected you. But just today the most interesting thing happened to me, and as a result of it I have been thinking about the past and the feelings we used to share. I suppose at this late date it is too much to hope that we could begin again as though nothing happened. But I do believe it might be possible to rekindle our friendship…and perhaps as time goes on, something more as well…_

**Author's Note:**

> Bits of Elvish in the story:  
> Ada -- father/dad  
> Elleth -- female Elf  
> Ellyn -- male Elves


End file.
